


Close Quarters

by hikorichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Community: hp_drizzle, Complete, F/M, One Shot, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikorichan/pseuds/hikorichan
Summary: Severus meant only to save Hermione from a stampeding Hippogryph. An old caretaker meant only to stop students from snogging in broom cupboards. Jason Pierce and Toby White were meant to be murdered, or worse, expelled. Nothing quite went to plan that day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first of two fics I wrote for hp_drizzle 2016 fest on livejournal (the other is "This Night"). My prompt was "Hermione and Character B are trapped in a broom closet for a few hours (reason is up to you). Unfortunately, the temperature begins to grow hotter and hotter. Soon, it feels like a hot July day even though it's the middle of winter." Thanks to my betas, AdelaideArcher and MelodyLepetit.
> 
> As always, I appreciate your comments and kudos. Thanks to all for your support.

Jason Pierce and Toby White didn’t know it yet, but I was going to kill them. 

The pair of them made the Weasley twins look civilised. They were chaos—the Two Terrors, the staff called them—and had been from the moment they'd been sorted into Gryffindor.

Of course they were in Gryffindor. I would expect nothing less from that rowdy, impulsive house—it bred idiots, bullies, and clowns and had from the moment it was formed, as far as I was concerned. 

It made no sense to me that she’d ended up sorted into the pack of lions, the same way it made no sense that Lily had been sorted that way before her. I could only guess the Sorting Hat was intelligent enough to understand that Harry Potter would need someone with more than two brain cells on his side if he was ever going to survive the war. 

But even as a Professor, Hermione Granger couldn’t stop Jason and Toby from causing trouble. 

The only reason I had not expelled the boys was that I understood keeping them in the castle was perhaps the only way to keep them contained. Out in the world, without any knowledge or skill to control their impulsive natures and wild magic, they could be deadly.

It didn't hurt that their annual negative point loss made it so that Slytherin house had little trouble capturing the House Cup every year since they had joined the student body.

So you see, despite the problems they caused, there were reasons to keep them around.

At least, that was how I felt before they'd set an angry Hippogryph stampeding down the fourth floor corridor (how they got it inside, I have no idea), forcing me to pull Professor Granger into a rather small cupboard with a nasty bit of anti-snogging magic and a door that sealed itself closed behind us.

She was sulking now, glaring angrily at the lock as if it was the reason for her current predicament, rather than the actions of her own cubs. We’d tried just about every unlocking spell we could think of between us—some of them twice—but with no success. The door remained firmly shut.

Quickly, the room had grown warm. It was only in small part due to our body heat. 

An hour into our predicament, Hermione’s forehead glistened with perspiration, and the steadily rising temperature had made her curls wild and frizzy and her cheeks flushed.

I imagined she'd look the same after being heartily ravaged, something I had wanted to do for several years now. 

Not that I had told her. 

I was the headmaster, and there were rules about courting your staff.

Not actual rules, really—I had checked a couple years ago, just in case something happened. But principles. Codes of ethics. 

Most people probably believed I wasn’t the sort of man to hold such things, considering I’d been a Death Eater and a spy, but they were wrong. A lot of people were wrong about me, though I hoped I’d managed to somewhat convert Hermione’s opinion since she’d joined the staff several years previously. 

Not that I held out hope that I’d done a very good job of it. I was good at a great many things, a powerful and intelligent wizard, but I held no illusions about my abilities when it came to relationships; I was rubbish with people, unless the conversations involved yelling or sarcasm. 

I was also absolute shite at flirting with women, which was another very good reason to avoid attempting it with Hermione. I didn’t fancy making a fool out of myself, and I’d managed to avoid doing so until we’d become stuck in the cupboard-cum-hell-chamber.

The problem was her dishevelled appearance, or perhaps her proximity, or both. I stood with a broom handle lodged between my shoulder blades and couldn’t stop imagining her looking the same, robes tossed on the floor, our bodies joined and limbs grasping at slick skin. 

She’d noticed me staring like some perverted fool, and her eyes widened in what I could only assume was horror—though I didn’t take the time to study her expression, for I became determined to catalogue the cobwebs on the ceiling. 

I tried to ignore the fact that our feet knocked together as we shifted in an attempt to create more distance between us.

After counting the spiders (six), I began imagining all the ways I might murder the Gryffindor cubs that had initiated this catastrophe. 

"What in Merlin's name is taking so long?" Hermione complained as I visualised tying Jason’s limbs to two separate dragons, and then sending them flying in opposite directions. She tapped her foot impatiently on the bare plank floor. "I must have sent that Patronus at least an hour ago."

"I imagine our colleagues are preoccupied evicting the sharp-beaked, surly palomino," I replied in a sardonic drawl, my voice carefully controlled, even as my gaze skimmed the swell of her chest, which was now covered with a sheen of moisture above the neck of her moss-coloured robes.

Normally I prided myself on my ability not to ogle the Charms professor, but the closet was apparently the nemesis to my self control. Quickly, I forced my eyes back to the wall.

Die. They were going to die.

"Ugh, why is it so bloody hot in here?" She pulled at the seams of her clothes, attempting to get some air to her skin. 

"A previous caretaker believed that if the cupboards were charmed to become particularly uncomfortable, students would be less likely to use them for acts of... intimacy."

I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, for all I could picture was pressing Hermione against the wall and licking the pool of sweat that was forming in the crease of her breasts. She would taste of salt and vanilla, I was sure of it.

Hermione's bold laugh roused me from my fantasy.

"Oh, Severus, who could possibly think hot cupboards could stop the students from snogging? Besides which, there’s enough abandoned classrooms and secret corners in this castle that a cupboard is hardly necessary if the couple is—” 

The heat must have overcome Hermione in that moment, for she paused and pushed back the stray curls of hair sticking to her brow before she finished with, “well, you know.”

I didn’t want to think about her snogging past beaus in hidden corners. Or the fact that there was a particularly private alcove near my office. I cleared my throat. 

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I believe it is meant to gradually increase in temperature the longer we remain. It is also why our Cooling Charms are ineffectual.”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her legs knocking against mine. Her eyes looked upward as if in prayer, and then her mouth settled into a firm line.

“It will be fine,” she said as if reassuring herself. “They’ll come and get us out soon.”

“Or we’ll be baked alive and the elves can serve us for tea.”

I had never seen Hermione frown quite so forcefully. 

“I’ve been far too lenient on those two,” she seethed. “When I get out of here, they’re getting expelled.”

* * *

I was boiling over, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was from the ridiculous anti-snogging charm. 

He was so close that I could barely stand it. 

When he grabbed my wrist and tugged me into the closet, wrapping me in his strong arms, I felt my heart double over. We were pressed together, alone in the tiny room, and for a moment we stared at each other in the dim light.

A little too long, if truth be told, because then it became awkward, and we jumped apart with muttered apologies. I leapt for the handle, feeling I’d really rather face the Hippogryph than deal with the heat that was blooming in my body. 

He was my employer, my boss—he did my annual performance evaluations!—not to mention I had been his student once. 

Not that the latter fact really bothered me, but still. It was the principle of the matter. 

If I told Harry and Ron I had a crush on Professor Snape, they’d probably commit me to St. Mungo’s. 

And now we were stuck in this bloody roasting cupboard. Close enough so that every time I shifted, I felt his leg brush against mine. Hot enough that I knew I looked like a banshee caught in a downpour. 

Severus’s constant staring only proved my assumptions about my appearance. I should have told him to bugger off—it wasn’t like the sweat pouring from his temples did anything for his own looks—but instead I only seemed capable of gaping at him like a fool.

Gods, I wanted nothing more than to get out of the cupboard before I did something truly stupid. 

I’d had more than a few close calls already. As if it hadn’t been embarrassing enough to suggest a randy couple in his presence, I then proceeded to do worse while daydreaming about snogging him in a particularly romantic alcove I’d discovered a few weeks ago during my rounds—it was an odd, L-shaped corridor whose only purpose seemed to be the beautiful view of the lake at the end.

In my imagination, Severus was undoing the bodice of my robes, and when my breasts sprang free and his mouth connected with my sensitive flesh, I moaned, “Oh, Gods.” 

Except that the exclamation was not limited to my mind. No, I had managed to say it out loud. 

“Is something the matter?” Severus asked, looking perplexed. 

“I just realized all the paperwork we’ll have to do when we expel Jason and Toby!” I lied, and that might have been all right, if my voice hadn’t come about two octaves too high.

Severus’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he looked back at the door and muttered, “A price worth paying, I believe.”

I could not have appreciated Severus’s stoicism more than in that moment. Sighing, I shunted the fantasy from my mind and turned my gaze towards the ceiling, where a spider was spinning a new web in the only spot not littered with the draping, dusty fragments of previous attempts. 

To occupy my mind, I contemplated just how I would tell Jason and Toby that they were finally to be expelled. I toyed between the options of blunt rage and cool resignation. Before long, however, it became difficult to concentrate. It was the heat, of course, which made me unbearable uncomfortable in my thick woollen robes. The back of my garment was soaked with sweat, and I could feel droplets dripping down my thighs. Severus and I were both dressed for winter, the halls outside the closet frigid and damp. Inside the closet was definitely bathing suit weather—not that I would ever allow myself to be seen by the headmaster in a bikini (as much as I might like to imagine him in swimming trunks). 

I wondered for a moment if he’d mind if I took off my shoes and socks. At least that way my feet could breathe. 

But then I imagined what they must smell like, and decided against it. 

I peered at Severus, who was scowling and casting some sort of charm-detection spell on the door. Little runes floated around the knob, but they were too complex to decipher without several textbooks and reams of parchment. All we had in the closet was a broom and an old crate.

Still, Severus must be truly desperate to be away from me if he was trying to break the charms that held us inside. 

Suddenly, I felt as if I’d swallowed one of Hagrid’s rock cakes whole: a sick, heavy weight sat in my stomach, and I thought, _sod it. He doesn’t like me anyway, so who cares if he smells my feet?_

The crate sat at the back of the closet, taking up at least half the space. I didn’t know what was in it, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I shrank it so the top was at knee-height and sat on it. Not looking at Severus, I heaved up my heavy skirt, and set to work on my boots.

* * *

She was undressing.

_Undressing._

I’d been trying without much success to decode the spell on the lock and then suddenly her skirts were rising. Her delicate fingers quickly unlaced her boots, tossing them behind her. She wore thick, grey socks, which she rolled down. 

All I could do was stare at her like a baboon, the locked door entirely forgotten as her slender feet appeared. 

“Oh, that is much better,” she said with a sigh. “I wish I could take off these bloody robes.”

Our eyes locked, and I watched her cheeks turn crimson. 

“I didn’t mean… I don’t…” she stuttered. 

I turned back to the lock, fumbling with my wand. 

Sparks shot from the end, exploding in a shower of silver glitter against the door. 

“Goddamnit!” I shouted. “Where the fuck are they?”

No longer holding out any hope for Hermione’s esteem, I pounded on the door with my fists. 

“Hello! We’re stuck in here! Get help!”

Suddenly, Hermione was beside me, her delicate hands joining mine in beating against our cage. Our bodies jostled against each other, and the contact only made me more desperate. 

“Go sit back down!” I roared at her, my fists still drumming against the door.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

“This closet is not bloody big enough for us both to be here!”

“Then get out of my way!” Hermione growled, and then I was being shoved aside—she was surprisingly strong for a witch. 

I watched her raise her wand towards the door, and my eyes widened as I realised what she was going to do.

“STOP!”

* * *

Okay, trying to blast the door open was a mistake.

But imagining me naked was apparently awful enough to make Severus angry and panicked, and I couldn’t handle it. 

I should have tried, in retrospect, because my blasting spell sent me careening backwards into the headmaster, so that we landed on top of my smelly shoes and socks in a tangle. 

I heard his breath get knocked out of him in a gasp as I landed on top of him. I launched myself away from him immediately, thinking it odd I felt his wand in his pocket when I was sure it had been in his hand, but he remained crumpled backwards over the crate, one of my socks hanging limply over his shoulder. I watched and listened in horror as he curled forward and attempted to wheeze air back into his lungs. 

“I’m so sorry!” I shrieked, my concern for him overwhelming my urge to flee. I snatched my damp sock from his person, and then patted him all over with my hands, checking for injuries but finding only clothes and whatever lumps were in his pockets.

“Hermione!” he coughed, stiffening as he simultaneously tried to sit up and brush off my hands. 

“Tell me you’re okay,” I begged, squeezing his ribs. “I am absolutely rubbish at healing spells.” 

“I’m fine!”

“Are you sure?” I asked, cupping his cheek. I peered into his eyes, searching for the truth. I knew him well enough that I couldn’t be certain he wasn’t trying to be gallant. 

His eyes widened for a moment, and then his eyelids flickered closed, his head turning to the side.

“Severus! What’s wrong?” 

I pushed back his stringy, damp locks with my fingers. He remained still, his eyes scrunching up as if he was in a great deal of pain.

“Oh, Merlin, please, Severus, just tell me where it hurts.”

* * *

She was touching me. 

Her hands felt like they were everywhere. 

When she cupped my face, I couldn’t take the embarrassment any longer; I was sure she must have already felt my hard-on in my trousers, for I had felt her body press against it, and then her fingers brush over it in her rush to check me over. It could only be her concern for my wellbeing that was overwhelming her disgust. 

That she cared at all only made my heart thump more loudly, and my body betray me further.

I shut my eyes and forced myself mute in an attempt to stop myself from either shouting terrible things at her to get her to move away, or from grabbing her and kissing her then and there in that stupid cupboard. 

Gods, her fingers were in my hair… 

Her lips were so close, pleading with me to say something…

I gripped my hands in my lap, trying to curl forward. 

“Oh Gods, what have I done?” she asked, and I could swear amidst the edge of panic, there were tears in her voice. 

I opened my eyes a crack, just to be sure she wasn’t truly crying over my sorry arse, and she was right there, inches from my face. So close…

“I’m fine,” I croaked.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she cried, and then her lips were upon me, just at the edge of my mouth, where a crease often formed when I frowned. 

Then she was pulling away. My eyes had gone wide, and my hands darted out to grab her wrists, to stop her from leaving—not that there was anywhere to go in the cupboard.

“I—I’m sorry. I was…” she floundered, her voice dying. 

Her cheeks were scarlet, and she looked bloody beautiful in front of me, all sweaty and wild and her bare toes peeking out from beneath her robes. 

And she’d kissed me. 

My self control vanished. 

I pulled her close with a tug, and my mouth found hers eagerly.

* * *

In retrospect, trying to blast open the door was a superb idea. A perfect, wonderful, wondrous idea.  
 The cupboard too, was amazing. 

I no longer wanted to expel Jason and Toby, those brilliant, imaginative boys.

Severus’s lips were soft, moving, melding with mine. His fingers tangled into my mess of hair, and I sank against him, my hands moving to grip the tops of his robes.

I never, ever wanted to leave that cupboard, with its perfectly useless anti-snogging charm. 

So of course, that was when a knock sounded at the door.

“Severus! Hermione! Are you in there?”

I pulled away, gasping, not sure if I should tell them to go away and come back in another hour. 

“Yes! We’re here!” called Severus, his voice rough and deep. Merlin, that voice. It sent a thrill through my chest, and I pounced on him again, kissing him deeply. He didn’t protest, even with Septima and Neville arguing outside about how to open the door. 

We got in a few more minutes, before Severus lurched back in fear. 

“Don’t try a bloody blasting spell!” he roared. 

I giggled as he stood and sighed with exasperation. We both straightened our robes, and I glanced at his crotch, noting the subtle bulge beneath the layers of black wool with obscene pride. 

“Just use the handle, you idiots,” Severus snapped at the door. 

A few seconds later, the door swung open, filling the room with grey light. A whoosh of cold air rushed in at the same time, and I shivered violently. Winter had returned to the closet.

“It’s bloody freezing!” 

A moment later, I felt the tingle of a Drying Charm travel over me, and then a mild Warming Charm followed it. 

I looked over to Severus, who had his wand in his hand. 

He smiled at me.

* * *

We were finally out of the cupboard. As I shut the door, I thought I might hang a plaque over it, for it was certainly the best cupboard in the castle. 

Hermione sat on the floor of the hall, putting back on her sock and boots. 

I looked over at Septima and Neville, who were looking rather nervous. 

“We’re sorry it took so long to come get you, Headmaster, Hermione,” Septima apologised. “That Hippogryph took all of us to corral and subdue, and by the time we had everything sorted, we’d forgotten what floor Hermione said the cupboard was on, and so we had to check every one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Where is the Hippogryph now?”

“With Hagrid, in the forest,” offered Neville.

“And Misters Pierce and White?” 

“In Hermione’s office.”

“Very well. Return to your rounds. I believe Hermione and I have important business to attend to,” I said sternly. 

The professors nodded, apologising again for their delay, but I was already focused on Hermione, who was looking at me curiously. I offered her a hand, which she took, and assisted her to her feet. 

“I suppose I should go and inform Jason and Toby of their expulsion,” she said noncommittally. 

Still clutching her hand, I pulled her a little ways down the hall to a hidden alcove behind a tapestry of Daedalus the Droll. Safely hidden, I kissed her again, felt a lightness burst in my chest.

“I’m feeling rather generous,” I whispered against her skin, laying kisses across her jaw. Her fingers clutched eagerly at my back. “I’m thinking we should give them another chance.”

“Detention then,” Hermione gasped as my tongue snaked out to lick her earlobe. “Severus…”

“Hrm?” I mumbled lazily, intent on the soft skin of her neck, just near the curve of her jaw. My hands gripped her hips, our bodies rubbing against each other.

“Oh, Merlin!” she cried as my teeth scraped her skin. “Severus… Severus you need to stop…”

I pulled back, eyeing her with dark eyes. She laughed, a breathy, pleasant chortle, and her fingers drew my mouth to hers again for a soft peck. 

“I need to go and deal with the students in my office,” she stated clearly, “and as neither of us needs to hide in alcoves to avoid detentions any longer, I’d really rather continue this in one of our rooms after a long shower.”

I nodded, seeing her logic. Given a sofa, I could lift her onto my lap; she’d be the perfect height to stick my large nose into her cleavage. And showering was probably necessary; after sweating so profusely, I smelled rather horrid, and I didn’t want to put Hermione off lest she decide that going slow was an unfavourable option.

“All right then,” I agreed, stepping back so that we could straighten our clothing once again.

“Students, then a shower and a change of clothes, and then I will come to your quarters. We can have tea, and then… see what happens,” she said with a dreamy sort of grin.

“May I walk you to your office?” I asked, if only to expand our time together a little longer.

“Of course,” she answered, smiling more broadly. 

I peeked outside the tapestry, and, finding the corridor empty, guided her into it. We walked along in pleasant silence, both imagining what would occur once she rejoined me in my rooms—or at least I assumed that’s what she was thinking about, as it certainly occupied my mind. 

A giggle caught my attention, and I peered down at her. 

“You know, Severus, we should really remove the anti-snogging spells from the cupboards. After all, I fear they might have the opposite effect.”

I smirked. “I’ll add it to our next staff meeting agenda.”

Eventually, we paused in front of her office door. She reached out and squeezed my hand. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, and then disappeared inside to deal with the awaiting Jason Pierce and Toby White.

“Just what were you thinking!” I heard her shriek on the other side of the door, and I smiled, shaking my head as I turned back down the hall. 

Yes, as it turned out, I would let Hermione deal with Jason and Toby that day.   
They’d get detentions—very long one and awful ones, most likely.

But I no longer wanted to murder them. 

In fact…

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” I spoke with a smile, gliding down the chill and draughty hall.


End file.
